’Tis the season to be merry and – liturgical quibbles aside – enjoy ubiquitous performances of Handel’s Messiah. These days there are two standard types. Massed choral society renditions, for which we have to thank the Victorians. And stripped-down, period-instrument performances of Handel’s own mid-18th century.

Under the late Christopher Hogwood, the Academy of Ancient Music virtually invented the latter approach. But this performance under Richard Egarr had an unusual contemporary spin: it opened with A Young Known Voice, a new choral work by Hannah Conway involving London schoolchildren. Skilfully constructed with material created in workshops, it layered anthemic unisons for the children, scraps of Handel for the Academy of Ancient Music Choir, film-score symphonism for the orchestra and disarmingly powerful narrations from teenage readers touching on Trump, stop-and-search policies and homophobia.

The Messiah cannot compete for “relevance” of that kind. But don’t be fooled by the old instruments or the stylised technique: this performance was unequivocally modern – fleet of foot, the phrasing broad, the tempi fast. Egarr was a tight bundle of energy, hands flying between harpsichord keys and orchestra, an object lesson in dismounting a piano stool at speed. The musicians were every bit as dynamic, from the weighted tension of the opening symphony’s legato, via ear-catching scrunchiness from the continuo bass, to crescendos so micro-managed they were a constant surprise, and a thrilling variety of modes of attack from the strings.

The solo singing was also excellent. Tenor Thomas Hobbs hit his stride in part two, with biting recitatives and barely suppressed vocal violence in Thou Shalt Break Them. Messiah baritone-extraordinaire Christopher Purves brought a thrilling dash of quasi-operatic drama and although his The Trumpet Shall Sound was less than focused, David Blackadder’s trumpet sang wonderfully true. Reginald Mobley’s beautiful countertenor ranged from pastoral elegance to declamation so harsh as to be almost spat out in He Was Despised. Mary Bevan injected yet more vitality, though her solos were often hyper-intimate affairs, showcasing her gift for storytelling.

The evening’s star turn, though, was the 17-strong AAM choir. From their outstanding ensemble virtuosity and beautifully melded sound to high-definition fugato passages and, yes, a bracing Hallelujah chorus, the choir shone. A seasonal reminder that good things really can come in small packages.